And they will know no fear
by Grimaldus4DK
Summary: Hours has begun his assault on Terra in hopes to destroy the Imperium and it's loyal citizens. This is no longer a time for hero's, it is a time for legends. Brother against brother, and the galaxy hangs it the balance.
1. Chapter 1 Betrayal and Heresy

It was the thirteenth day of Secundus when the battle began. Hours and his traitor forces began to pour forth from drop pods as tank battalions and the Imperial Army marched to meet them, hoping to cripple his forces before the reached the palace. They had already begun to attack the spaceports surrounding the palace so they could secure a landing sight for more forces. The golden throne hummed with a gentle but loud power that easily broke the silence of the throne room. Every custodian was in the room with the emperor, clad in their gold plated armor, gripping their halberd guns in their leather gauntlets, each and everyone of them had their faces hidden behind their ornate eagle crested helmet. Arron Markakin gripped the hilt of his halberd, fists clenched with hate. His weapon had been cleaned, oiled, prayers had been said, scrolls had been read. His best friend had been slain by traitor forces in cold blood, caught from behind by that pathetic excuse for a Primarch Logar and his tainted cowardly legion, his blood boiled when ever he thought about them, or any traitor for that matter. Aquallion would, be, avenged.

"Calm yourself Arron" a loud but gentle voice broke the silence of his mind, talking to him through his mind so that he could maintain the silence for everyone else and keeping Arron from being embarrassed. "You will get your chance to fight, if I know hours, he will make his attack on the palace too soon while using too many of his more vital assets."

His heart skipped a beat as he realized the emperor was talking to him from the throne. "I will father, forgive me."

"For what? You have done nothing to anger me, you have no acts of treachery or taint upon you. I will not punish you for having emotions" the Emperor replied. "Just use them carefully."

He simply nodded in acknowledgement, letting his father know that he got the point, he tried not to envy those already fighting, for envy was a short but brutal road to corruption. After a scant few seconds, he forgot about it entirely. It would be a long night.


	2. Chapter 2 Brother Against Brother

Rogol Dorn and the rest of the Imperial fists with him had engaged the traitors in brutal close combat, clashing with them in a small bombed out settlement. Dorn bashed his helmet into the unprotected face of a traitor, drawing a massive gash across his forehead before finishing him off with slash across his chest. Sparks and blood spewed of the traitors gut as his sword sliced through the corrupted, chaos polluted power armor as his sword passed through it like a knife through hot butter. He proceeded to draw his bolter and discharge his entire magazine in a mass of blood crazed world eaters who had been driven completly bat-shit due to the constant humming of their nural implant in their dome. It was only 4 hours into the siege and already he and his men had killed scores of traitors, but not without sacrifice. With a quick glance over his shoulder a saw Sigismund kick a World Eater on to the ground and impale him with a chain sword, tearing away at the armor and flesh till he reached the tainted gene seed. After the traitor had finished screaming and flailing on the ground, Sigismund whipped out his pistol and popped three traitor imperial soldiers in the head, splattering their brains all over the grey rockcrete ruins. They may Space Marines, but there were only a scant few with him at the moment and the traitors were gaining ground, slowly but steadily. Four tactical squads sprinted up to cover, bolter rifles and pistols at the ready, already firing as they ran at the World Eaters, screams of hate and vengeance yelled at the traitors as they charged them. They were being led by Sgt. Kaskiivor who had been serving since Hours's treachery had been revealed. He had been in every major fight between traitors, always in the thick and never shrinking away from a fight. In fact, they might say that he hated the traitors more then anyone else. He was eight years old when they purged his world, his entire family killed before his eyes on sacrificial alters. It was Rogol who had saved him, and the way Kaskiivor saw it, he had a blood oath for his Primarch and the Emperor.

"Kill them and show no mercy! By the Emperor let none of these blind eyed traitors live! FOR TERRA AND THE EMPEROR"! Kaskiivor screamed as he fired his bolter into the mass of traitors, his voice sounding like a mechanical beast with his helmet on. His bolter was rather basic, much like the rest of the men he rallied together with only one difference, a power bayonet which was fixed to it and radiated with a pure white holy fire that melted through even the strongest armor chaos could posses. His armor was draped with scrolls and prayers from head to toe. His left shoulder guard had a prayer book chained to it with the other one brandishing the black clenched fist the Imperial fists used for a logo. His helmet was the standard Aquila IV, nothing special. He had a leather tabard with small steel studs lined up in perfect order top to bottom with a long, tattered robe over it, long enough in fact that it dragged the ground. It was a plain cloth robe which had only one outstanding feature, a perfectly dyed fist clenching the spines of several traitor legions in its closed palm, heads still attached. Sons of Hours, Thousand Suns, and Death Guard. Underneath it read in bold, blood read Gothic "My Brothers No More." Dorn thought that it was, at least in his opinion, a truly powerful and motivating symbol, and would make sure that if he could have it inducted as a chapter relic, for the mans loyalty to the chapter was matched only by Sigismund. His bolter magazine ran dry but hardly even fazed him, he after all had a bayonet, and it was to late to reload. As a traitor charged him with a hideously malformed face that not even a mother could love. He had a massive, tainted demon maul that reeked and stank of leaned underneath the blow and buried his bayonet in the traitors gut, blood draining out of his body like a broken faucet as the blade was plunged deeper and deeper into his gut, shredding the intestines into goblets and strings of tainted flesh and corrupted tissue. His gene seed fell onto the ground as the bayonet was painfully dragged out of the wound, making the most vital organ look like a purple lump of mangled and shredded flesh. He then ended the pathetic whelps life by a blot pistol to the mouth, sending a thick warm mist of red flesh painting the rockcrete red. He and the men were locked in bitter combat for what seemed like an eternity. Stabbing and cutting and slashing and blasting each other to pieces. One of the loyalists was felled by four raptors who hacked him away till he was little more then a lumpy pile of shredded flesh, blood splatters, and chunks of torn up metal with most of the paint chipped away. A young battle brother, having just earned his power armor four days ago withdrew his serrated combat knife, flipped it up by the very tip, and whipped it at a traitor raptor, putting every single augmented muscle in his free arm to use. It hit his jump-pack with such force that it erupted in a massive ball of greasy promethium and flames, the metal screeching like a banshee as it clawed its way across the battle field.

One of the world eaters bore down on a Imperial fist with a chain sword, cutting into his armor with horrendous ease. Just as he had killed the fist, two other loyalists turned their bolters on him and filled him with countless rounds, each detonating moments later, pocketing his body full of holes. Out of his line of sight, Kaskiivor caught view of three death guard sprinting at him, chain axes roaring like mythological beasts of Ancient Terra and bolt pistols barking like rabid blood hounds as they rushed the Imperial Fists. With one quick motion, Kaskiivor spun around with two others and riddled them with bolt shells. Before their death tough, one squeezed off a round and popped a battle brother in the head, a fresh one at that, it was his first battle. It only maddened the Sgt. more, seeing such a brave, faithful servant to the emperor go out in such a way. They would pay for this fowl treachery, even if it was the last thing he did.

"Get down" screamed a fist as he knocked his sergeant on the cold hard rockcrete roads, saving his life by a hair as several thunder hawks streaked over head on a bombing run.

"Much appreciated brother, I won't forget this" he thanked the marine who had saved his life.

"Burn you pathetic loyalist whelps" said an Emperor's Child from behind the marine who saved Kaskiivor's life, and with one fluid motion he killed him, his tainted blade punt the war plate of the Imperial Fist, lunging him forward, blood slowly seeping out of his helmet.

"No!" the Sargent screamed with hate as he lifted up from where he lay and slammed a krak grenade down his throat and kicked him into a horde of traitors, mutants and other foul spawn of chaos that attempted to clamber over the shelled out stone and derbies of the town they fought in. Kaskiivor turned away from the pink armored warrior just in time to dodge to implosion that sent a massive score of traitors strait to the warp.


	3. Chapter 3 Let slip the dogs of War

A massive explosion landed in front of Custodian Amman Kalin. His golden armor was painted red with the blood of traitors as he felled countless foes. One of The Emperor's Children tried rushing him from behind but failed as he spun around with lighting speed agility and cleaved off his legs followed by cutting him in half with his halberd. He dodged the discharge of a tainted bolt rifle from a plague marine, ducked under a thousand suns staff, and kicked a world eater in the chin, breaking is inhuman jaw. He then smashed the but of his weapon into the suns helmet, finishing him off by blowing his brains across the ground. He then rushed up to the plague marine and punched him five times. The first blow landing strait into his face, breaking the nose and dislodging his teeth, the second he grabbed the mans arm and broke it over his knee, followed up by flipping him over his shoulder and punching him in the face. He stood the man up right and punched him in the gene twice before finishing him off by stabbing him in the gut with his halberd. The red heraldry was tattered and cut from the ceaseless fighting. He wished that he could be with the rest of the companions, protecting the emperor, but he was needed here, and if the Imperium needed him here, then by the gods he would be. He punched another world eater in the throat, sending him falling to the ground, gasping for air and choking out curses before his life was ended by a quick, decisive slash across the throat, sending a fountain of red blood pouring out of his throat. The golden eagle on his visor was stained with the blood of the traitors. Five months into the fighting and it still hand't ceased, no surprise their though, Hours was always a persistent bastard. He spun a third Child around and headbutted him with his helmet on before bringing the back of his weapon right across face, splattering foul smelling blood everywhere. The Emperor's Child looked up through the red haze as he saw the last few seconds of his life vanish in the thrust of a single weapon. He was surrounded by an estimated four-thousand army recruits, yes recruits. Very green and the way he figured was that the only reason they hadn't broke yet was because a group of white scars had come to their aid. Their were several other Custodians with him, but each had died. And their deaths would be avenged, he would be sure of that.

"Custodian, get down" shouted a voice over a loud roaring engine. With that Amman ducked down and caught sight of a massive white bike fly over his head, a gleaming force sword severing several traitors in one sweep. The bike landed with a thud, the front wheel landing first as the second wheel crushed a traitor on the head. Their was only one man who could pull off something like that on a bike. The Khan.

"Many thanks Primarch" Amman replied to the man who had just saved his life.

"Don't mention it. Listen, You may be reluctant about leaving here, but the Emperor made a personal request for you. The courier who was suppose to tell you this was blow to smithereens by a volcano cannon. My scars and I will take over from here. Now go!"

Amman simply nodded to the Khan before he turned around and rat back to the palace. He wan't reluctant at all, but more confused on why the emperor had requested that he himself report to the throne room. The time for Malcador to take the throne couldn't have come yet, could it. It was only a month into the siege. Their forces were still holding firm, to an extent that is, and the only way that they could loose is if the Emperor himself was killed.


	4. Chapter 4 The Chosen

Amman arrived in a small corridor that was filled with the wounded men, thousands of them. Medics, doctors and even a few of the Angles own Apothecaries were bent over, attending to both the dead and dying. His metal plated greaves had been a shining polished gold only a month ago, and now they were a thick, dark red. He quickly thanked the scar who had given him a ride back to the palace and then wished him the best of luck. They shook hands and then with a roar, he and his bike turned around and sped away. As he casually walked down the corridors he saw five apothecaries around several bulky unidentifiable shapes. He paused at stood their for a good three minutes, trying to figure out what he was looking at. All he heard from them were small cracks and buzzes, which meant they were having a private conversation over their vox net, making sure no one else could here. The chief apothecary their had bleach bone armor with the shoulder guards painted blood red. The shapes they were standing around were at least the length of an astartes, possibly longer. Then the thing on the left began to shake violently , making inaudible noises as it thrashed and flailed.

"Shit, Brother Zheme, he's turning. Go get someone to help hold him down!"

Just as he said this, Amman barged in to help.

"Well, never mind. It's fortunate that you came along Custodian, these were angles, tainted by the thousand suns and their sorceress ways. Help us hold him down!" One of them said.

With ease Amman held the brother down by the legs, keeping him from flailing out of their grip. They were surprised with how he was able to so easily restrain the man as he struggled.

The lead apothecary stabbed his surgical tools in the mans chest, killing him instantly.

"Another gene seed tainted. Wonderful. We appreciate the help Custodian. But now we must return to our work. Good day."

"Good day Angles" he said before stalking out of the room as the door shut behind him.

"Now, where were we?" one of them said once the door was closed.

Amman continued down the bulkhead towards the throne room, not aware of what the emperor had planed for him.


	5. Chapter 5 Courage, Honor, and Friendship

Lt. Amaric Jenkins was a young, lean healthy man in his early twenties. Unlike the others with him who had signed on for glory and honor, he was conscripted but willing to do his part, even if it meant he would die. He was around 5"9 with short forward cropped hair and a clean shaven face. His eyes were a steely blue that stood out under his goggles. His carapace armor may have been thick, bulky and durable, but it was designed to protect against small arms fire, not bolt rifles and volcano cannons. He stood in a firing line with probably a good five thousand men and women. They may not have the genetic enhancements and high-tech weaponry like the Custodian Guard or the Adeptus Astarets, but they possessed the same amount of courage and steel will to win the fight. On his left he was flanked by a beautiful Sargent, she had dirty blond hair and heavily tanned skin. She had eyes that were like brown diamonds and teeth that could blind a man in the dark. She had strong, smooth legs and a slender frame with a pretty good bust to boot. She was squinting through her smoke streaked goggles as they waited for the traitor army units that were to pass through the gates. She had been the replacement for his sisters husband, a man who he had promised to keep safe. His sister held no resentment against him, blaming only Horus and the Gods, but he disagreed. Her name was Kaitlin Lyons, and at only 20 years old she was ready to bring hell down upon the bastards who had burned her own home planet. At first the two of them didn't pay much attention to each other, but when he saved her life from a burning tank that nearly cooked her alive the two of them slowly began to develop not just a friendship, but a sense of camaraderie, knowing that they always had someone to fall back on when the shit hit the fan. A person they could trust to stick by them no what came their way, no matter how much shit the galaxy seemed to throw at them they always kept their chin up and their gun loaded. But over the years Amaric slowly began to feel a bit closer to her, as if he loved her. He figured that even if she did feel the same way about him, he still couldn't embrace it. Being close to someone like that in their line of work could destroy them both. One on the inside and the other on the outside. On his right was one of the jitteriest, most talkative, most friendly people you would ever meet; Pvt. Aris Fletcher. Most people for a first impression figured this life wasn't for someone like him. WRONG. When they had fought against a battalion of rebel soldiers, he hadn't just proved himself, he had distinguished himself.

"Wait for it, wait for it" said a lieutenant colonel as he walked up and down the firing line they had set up.

"Till the day we die huh?" Kaitlin said, breaking the silence.

"Till the day we die" he said as they fist bumped.

"And Aris, remember, fire at anything that isn't imperial" he said.

"Awww, kill joy" he replied jokingly.

The three of them would have laughed but the traitors killed the moment by blasting the door down.

"Fire, fire, open fire!" an officer screamed as gunfire streaked through the air from both sides.

Droves after droves of the traitors were killed, with the occasional loyalist dying. The three of them fired round after round into the mass of pushing bodies. Right now they were struggling to get it, only about four or five of them able to squeeze through the hole they had just blown in the door.

Already Amaric had claimed eight lives with his rifle, slowly strafing it left to right. Kaitlin stood next to him, firing three round bursts into the pushing horde of human bodies. One of them actually got lucky enough to push past the fire and attempted to tackle Aris. The man was holding his chain sword up high just as Fletcher drove his fist into the mans lower abdomen, forcing every shred of air out of his lungs before curb stomping him on the back of the head.

They could already tell this would be a long fire fight.


	6. Chapter 6 The Golden Angles

"Open fire!" shouted Sgt. Kaskiivor as he slid into cover and let loose a massive torrent of bolter rounds, cutting down several children as they rounded the corner, chasing three army soldiers who had fallen back in a fighting retreat, possibly even the last in their unit.

"Sgt. Look out!" a Neophyte called out from above a balcony, alerting him of a blood letter rounding the corner right behind him.

It's breath was sticky and hot, slime dripped out of it's inhuman tong. It screeched a loud, angered howl, filled with fury and excitement, almost trying to scare the fist as he looked at its prey.

"BRING IT!" Kaskiivor shouted as he plated his feet in the ground, bracing for the thing to charge him.

Its pronged feet sprinted through the cracked masonry and crumbling stone, its sword dancing with fire that blazed through the night sky. But as it brought its blade back to stab the fiery heart of the fist, the world seemed to go in slow motion as he dropped his bolt rifle and hit the ground, landing in a push up position, dust and grit flying everywhere as the demon impaled a death guard plague marine. The tainted blood of his ally slowly dripped onto the blade, infuriating the demon. Not because of who he killed, but because he missed his mark. He turned around and made another attempt for the loyalist, the lifeless body of the death guard captain wavering around in the air. This time however, our hero dove to the left, missing the blade by a hair. He then countered it by tearing out a massive chunk of re-bar and tossing it at the thing. The rockcrete that was left on it shattered on impact, both seriously injuring and angering the demon. It now jumped into the air failing to cut him in half as he kicked out the last pole supporting the hovel it landed in, the heavy stone collapsing in on it, burying the monstrosity in a massive pile of rubble.\

"Wow, that was easy" commented the fist as he casually picked his bolter up off of the ground. But just as he cracked his back, the thing burst out of the stone and roared in anger with the slight sounds of blood gurgling in his throat.

"Dude, didn't anyone ever tell you it's not polite to shout?" he said as he raised his bolter to fire upon the bloodied chaos demon, but found a nasty surprise as it clicked empty.

With a look of joy now, the thing cast aside Kaskiivor, smashing him up against an alter, the force of the impact leaving the imprint of his backpack in the sturdy stone masonry.

It's victory was short lived however as two golden figures jumped down in front of it, sending dust flying in every direction, clouding its vision.

"You will burn you foul piece of ork shit!" screamed one of them.

At that moment, the clicking of two force weapons being activated filled the demons ears, and at that moment, the two custodians bust from the debris and began to beat the hell out of it.

"Aaron, look out" the rougher looking one as he rammed his weapon into the face of the demon.

"Don't worry about me Amman, you take the demon, I'll help our friend here" said the other.

Amman blocked the blow from the sword, then with all his might, thrust forward and stabbed the demon in the chest, killing it instantly.

"Custodians, I thought I was a goner their. You have my thanks" Kaskiivor said.

"Don't mention it. Listen, most of the fists that are here are regrouping at the northern gate where Dorn is going to make a push against the others.

"Good, three weeks into this shit and the death toll is already too high. See you on the other side" he said before he wandered off with the rest of his men.

Just as Amman withdrew his weapon from the belly of the beast, the two of them were jumped by eight other blood letters.

"Well, shit" Amman said.

"Well no one ever said it would be easy" Aaron replied.

Aaron ducked under the blow from one of them and blocked the blow from another, proceeding to parry the attack with a quick jab to the gut.

Amman blocked blow after blow with unbelievable ease as the two of them fought back to back, just like warriors of legend. And in one motion, Aaron drove one knee into the ground and thrust his weapons blade into the gut of one while Amman blasted the brains of another out the back of its skull, showering the walls with inhuman gore and alien blood.

Aaron decked a third one in the jaw, sending the poor things teeth and fangs in every direction while Amman lacerated the fourth into three pieces, showering himself with it's own blood. He raised the weapon into the eyes of the fifth and pulled the trigger, ending the beasts life in the blink of an eye. Realizing that fighting them was a lost cause the demons routed from the field scattering to the winds, while the two Custodians remained unharmed.

"Well, that went better then expected" Amman said, breaking the silence. Just then, contact broke over the radio. It was Sanguinis.

"To all Angles and Custodians out their. You are needed back at the palace ASAP. They have broken through the palace walls! I repeat they have broke through the palace walls!"

"Well, shit" Aaron said as he stood up and cracked his helmeted neck.


	7. Chapter 7 In full retreat

"Shit, Airs, I need a spare round" Jenkins said as he spent the last of his ammo.

"Here, use it wisely, cause I only have one left!" the private roared over the sound of warfare and dying soldiers.

"IN OTHER WORDS, DON'T STOP SHOOTING!" Kaitlin shouted over the countless explosions, her eastern Terran accent echoing over the fighting.

"Why do I get the feeling their using them to make us eat through our ammunition so they can send their traitor marines through the holes they've made" said the lieutenant.

Just as he said that, his ears began to pick up what sounded like a jet engine screeching through the sky, slowly drawing closer and closer to the ground with unnatural speed. He suddenly realized that it wasn't a jet, it was a raptor.

"Shit! Emperor's Children! screamed an officer right before he was crushed under a boot and chewed up by a chain sword.

"Fall back, fall back; Move forward, you idiots; Man down, we have a man down!; Medic!; Retreat, retreat, fall back to the inner sanctum; Shit their every where!" The chatter over the vox network went on and on for what seemed like hours.

"Fuck, fall back to the inner gardens! You soldier, who's your commander?" Jenkins asked.

"Lt. Morris, but he's dead, you rallying men?" the recruit asked.

"Indeed I am!" he yelled so the recruit could here him over the noise in the back round.

"Hey, alpha company, where with the Lt. over here, we're following his orders!" the private screamed to the last ten men in his unit. Only ten men left from a whole company.

"Hey, Cpl. you leading these men?" he said to a Cpl. who was flanked by a good four hundred men.

"Hell if I know. We're just fighting together! You taking over?"

"I am. Listen up you sorry bastards, you're following my orders now, we're falling back to the inner gardens to try and make a stand their! Alright?"

They nodded their heads in agreement and then slowly began to turn away and fall back to a more defensible position. One by one they proceeded to fall back behind their new commanding officer, each of them firing behind them so they could keep the fire on their pursuer's. Three of them kept the fire on them for a bit too long, giving them enough time to fire a missile in their direction, blowing the fire team to shreds of flesh and wisps of smoke. Several more were taken out by a devastator bolter, chewing them up till their was nothing left standing. One by one they were killed off until it was Aris, Kaitlin, and Jenkins alive.

"Shit, I'll keep you covered. I'll be right behind you!" Aris said as he stopped and squeezed off have a mag, killing two children in the process before he turned tail and sprinted, letting them give him covering fire.

"Die, you pathetic loyalist!" one of them screamed right before he and his entire squad were gunned down in a torrent of bolter shells which bought the three enough time to escape.


	8. Chapter 8 Scramble the Guard

"Sanguines" Amman said as he and Aaron sprinted into the palace hall.

"So you are the last two we needed. Sure took your sweet time. As you know the forces of chaos have breached the palace grounds and are making their way towards this position. As you know, Dorn and the Khan are currently out fighting their own battles against Horus's men, and we simply don't have the man power to take them on in a fight head on. This puts us on the defensive. Forgive me for making this a brief pep-talk, but this fight is going from bad to worse with more and more of Horus's forces making planet fall. You no what you must do."

They said nothing but instead gave him a crisp salute and marched out of the temple, ready to unleash hell and beyond upon the forces of Chaos and the traitor legions themselves. They would truly show no mercy, for the Emperor's life is at stake.


	9. Chapter 9 March of the Custodians

It seemed as though the battle was going well, it seemed like they would win. The Death Guard continued to cut a bloody swath through the imperial lines, laying waste to anything that wasn't chaos. But as it seemed like they were on the verge of victory, only some several thousand meters from the gates, a massive smoke screen masked their view. Confused, they raised their bolters to open fire on what ever lay behind the screen. They fired off countless rounds, completely sure that they would hit something. Nothing, dead silence, not even a small whimper of pain. They hadn't even begun to move when they came under fire, bolt rounds pocketing the backs of their armor from head to toe. Scores of them were down before they could even turn around and return fire. And just as they began to make a comeback, the unthinkable happened; four companies worth of bikes poured fourth from the smoke and bolter residue, unleashing unimaginable hell upon them.

"Take this you faithless pieces of ork shit, you back stabbing weak little cock suckers! YOU WILL ALL BURN!" Amman shouted as his bike ran down countless traitors, one still dangling and flailing on the tip of his blade, struggling to claw his way up to Amman and bite him. At that moment the plague marines world was filled with a quick, unbelievably immense amount of pain as the custodian held his weapon out at the side and dislodged him from it. All the while Aaron sat behind him laying down hell, duel wielding two master crafted bolt pistols, slaying in complete silence. And in a split second, the custodians of foot and those in their bikes passed each other and engaged in glorious combat. A death guard tried to cleave the head off of one with a tainted sword. Now he was good, but the custodian was better. He slid to his knees and thrust his head back underneath the blade, weapon arm stretched out in front of him, and without any sort of motion, the blade simply slid strait into the mans chest, slicing through the cremate armor like a knife through warm butter. Another was fired upon with a heavy bolter, rounds spewing fourth from the mutilated barrel. In a blurred motion, the custodian deflected the rounds with unnatural speed and dexterity, each bouncing off of his halberd before sprinting in for the kill, completely butchering the chaos spawn.

"Amman, rocket!" Aaron shouted as the two of them shot into the sky by driving up the charred out skeleton of a rhino and soaring into the air, passing right in front of Terra's moon, the dark outline of it pressed against the night sky.

"Shit!" Amman said as the rocket sailed through the sky and right into their bike, the two of them jumping off just in time to avoid having their golden limbs scattered all over the temple. The two of them landed with one knee driven to the ground, the other in a kneeling position. Amman looked up and spotted a man wearing pitch black power armor laced with a gold trim. The man was of the Sons of Horus, without a doubt a champion considering the fact that most were aboard the vengeful spirit.

"You are Amman Kalin. We have heard of you, you fight with unparalleled brutality and utter mercilessness. You would make a perfect servant of chaos. Join us, and together we can destroy this false leader, and rule together with Horus and the Dark Gods!"

"Khai Elvin, I will never side with chaos, even in my death. The day I side with you will be the day I die you pathetic whore!" Amman shouted as he regained his footing.

"Then so be it, Custodian" he said with a cruel and harsh rasp in his voice. All around them carnage and slaughter erupted in a massive orgy of blood, carnage and slaughter, any sane army would be routed by the horrors around them. But they were The Custodian Guard, the emperor's own personal body guards. And with a massive burst forward filled with intensity and hate, Amman charged the man. They exchanged blow after blow, endlessly countering each others attacks. Khai slashed his massive cleaver directed for his neck, but was too slow. Amman knelt down and missed it by an inch, his eagle faced helmet concealing his already expressionless face, only revealing the eyes. With that he stood up, perfectly straitened back and nailed the stock of his pole-arm into his face, stunning the man and providing him with enough time to leap off the ground and bring his own body at into the air. Spinning sideways at a horizon tile slant, he thrust his armored leggings into his temple. He screamed in pain at the assault as he staggered back, and in one motion Amman continually hit him with is weapon. But things aren't always that easy, especially when fighting chaos. Khai regained his footing and smashed his cleaver into his weapon, drawing them into a lock.

"Why do you resist you worthless freaks? Only Chaos is eternal! You had you your chance to side? But instead you choose to blow it away for some old, craggy no good whelp such as your emperor? You will burn, he will burn, you all will burn!" Khai said as he pressed his blade further and further towards the mans face. Only his eyes visible, Khai could not see how pissed off he had made Amman, and with one perfect motion, he thrust his halberd forward, discarding, but tossing away the cleaver as well, Amman kicked the bastard in the chest, flipping him over and at the same time Amman back flips up and over the traitor, lands right in front of him and strait fists him in the jaw, dislodging half of the mans teeth followed by a one-two punch in the mans gut. He then grabbed him by the roots of his long greasy hair and slammed his face into his knee with enough force to dent a predator tank, then followed by pulling his head back and repeatedly plunging his clenched fist into his face over and over and over. He then turned him around and gave him a head ache punch while headbutting at the same time. And finally, as the traitor slowly staggered backward, Amman slowly approached him and in one quick, uber bad ass ninja boss move, he chopped the head off of Khai, tainted blood spurting out of the gaping wound.

"Don't you ever DARE take the Emperor's name in vein" he said, covered in unholy blood from head to toe as he glanced up and opened his eyes, the bleach white eyes filled with a dark brown iris and pure black pupils peering out of the gold plated eagle wings. And as he did so he noticed that several plague marines had surrounded him. He simply cracked his neck, glanced at one, and within a fraction of a second he was upon them.


End file.
